Permanent
by Turnedcoat
Summary: ACC SPOILERS! When Vincent goes missing from 7th Heaven, Tifa and Cloud are worried. What they find when they catch up to him only leads them to more questions than they really wanted to ask. Such as: what would happen if GeoStigma wasn't really gone?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Shattered on Impact

The phone was ringing again. Vincent could tell by the way it was vibrating in little half circles on the desk perched on the other side of the room. He knew it was ringing, even though he couldn't hear it over the roar of his blood rushing in his ears. A thick, pounding sound that, despite its massive noise, was not at the forefront of his senses. Instead he was preoccupied with trying to curl himself as tightly as he could into himself.

Hands curled knuckle deep into ebony tresses, the ex-Turk could barely operate beyond thinking _"breathe"_ over and over again. The blankets—white hot beneath him—twisted cruelly around his limbs. His eyes might have been open, but Vincent couldn't see the phone anymore, as it vibrated dangerously close to the edge of the desk. Couldn't see anything beyond fragmented flashes of blue, and green—

—And fire, so much fire.

The phone shattered upon impact.

* * *

Tifa shut off the engine with a little more force than necessary, and yanked the keys from the ignition slot. After two ignored phone calls, Vincent had resorted to turning _off_ his phone.

She forced herself to remain in the vehicle for a long moment, and calmed her breathing. After waking up that morning to a house that was empty, as compared to finding Vincent in the kitchen, she turned the Bar over trying to figure out what happened. By the time she had realized the man wasn't at the Bar at all, everyone had become worried. Cloud was trying to phone him while she drove out to his once upon a time hidey-hole. A few minutes ago her own cell rang. Cloud informed her that the black haired man's phone was turned off now, and he wouldn't be able to get through from the Bar.

With a shove of her shoulder, the brunette exited her little vehicle, and closed the door behind her. The parking garage was empty for the most part.

"Vincent Valentine," she growled as she entered the main hall of the hotel she knew he was staying in, "You better have one hell of a reason."

Tifa subconsciously popped her knuckles as she reached the front desk. Somewhere in the pit of her stomach, her anger at being held to worry covered her gut feeling that something wasn't right. Vincent wasn't one to leave without notice.

Considering how early her little visit was, there wasn't exactly a line to hold her up. A blessing for the hotel staff, a curse for Vincent. She was able to wheedle out his room number from the clerk with relative ease, and proceeded to storm through the wood worn halls to the ex-Turk's room.

After double-checking the room number, twice (she wasn't so lost in her temper as to be unmindful of other guests, she told herself). Tifa paused to force herself through a slow breath. Once it was over, she rapped on the door as politely as she could. Given the fact that she had woken to find her houseguest missing, it was more than he deserved. At the lack of response, she raised her fingers again —

_She ran one hand through her yet to be dealt with hair, and took the steps down two at a time only to run into a rather morning stunned Cloud. _

_"What's the rush, Teef?" Cloud asked, steadying her by the shoulder, forcing her to stop._

_"Have you seen Vincent? He's always up before me to get the bar ready, but—"_

_Cloud's brows drew down, the morning haze in his blue eyes now dispersed, and shook his head, "Afraid not…haven't seen him since he left dinner last night."_

_Tifa frowned and shifted from one foot to another, "He's been strange, these last few weeks…but he wouldn't just leave. He's over that, isn't he?" _

_Cloud pursed his lips and sighed, "Maybe he needed to get away for a little while. He's been looking a bit sick for a while, you know. Maybe he finally decided to try and rest it off." _

_Tifa shrugged out of Cloud's hold, and moved towards the new phone they had installed in the bar, "It isn't like him to not tell us when he leaves. You know that." _

_She hadn't even noticed Denzel sitting by the far bar window until he spoke up, "He isn't here."_

_Tifa and Cloud both turned to look at the young boy, now slightly taller though hair no less tame, but the boy didn't return the look. He instead continued to stare out at the empty streets of Midgar. There usually wasn't much life outside at seven in the morning. _

_"Denzel, what're you doing up so early?" Tifa asked softly as she moved to get closer to the boy. _

_"He woke me up."_

_Tifa frowned slightly. Denzel tended to be a terribly light sleeper, a habit he would probably never be able to break thanks to his time alone on the streets of Midgar. Once she reached the little bar table, she sat down beside Denzel. Cloud watched on from the bar. _

_"He woke you up? This morning?" _

_Denzel nodded, "Around six. He was trying to be quiet…but I could hear him."_

_"Hear him leave?" Tifa asked softly, "Was he packing?"_

_The boy shook his head, his brown locks waving as he did so._

_She glanced to Cloud, and saw him at the phone, dialing silently. The dark haired woman turned her attention back to Denzel, and gently placed one hand on his shoulder, "Marlene?"_

_"She didn't hear," he said. _

_Tifa nodded, and watched the boy worriedly. All the while, a bit of anger stirred in her belly. A few weeks after the Deep Ground Incident, she and Cloud had invited Vincent to stay with them. They had the room, and since Cloud was still working as a Delivery Boy, she kind of needed the help. Vincent, after a little persuasion, agreed. In compensation for room and board, he worked the bar with her while it was open, helped with the housework, and the kids. His coming to stay was quite a blessing, and things started getting easier for the whole family. Marlene warmed up to him immediately, but it took Denzel a little longer. _

_And then, without warning, Denzel suddenly accepted Vincent's presence. Tifa was happy, but worried. When Denzel chose to warm up to a person, he tended to become overly attached. Considering his past losses, it was understandable, but Tifa didn't know if Vincent planned on making the arrangements permanent. She had feared that if he ever left, Denzel would see it as abandonment, or loosing yet another family member. The matter was only made worse by the fact that she and Cloud didn't know where Vincent was, and that the boy had watched him go._

_"Vincent told me once," Denzel said softly, breaking Tifa out of her thoughts, "That when dogs die, they leave to do it. That they don't want anyone to watch them pass."_

_Tifa jerked at the depressing comment, "Denzel, Vincent isn't a dog. He's fine, he's probably just—"_

_"He said he used to be able to transform into a dog."_

_Tifa frowned. Galian Beast wasn't exactly a dog, and she was surprised that Denzel knew about the creature at all. The boy was overly curious about their experiences during Meteor, and he no doubt wheedled the information from Vincent somehow, though she doubted he knew the truth behind those painful demons. The ex-Turk wouldn't release more information than he should. But the comment, in and of itself, was odd. Denzel was prone to over attachment, but he never assumed that Cloud was dead when he used to go missing._

_Tifa turned to see if Cloud had gotten anywhere with the phone, but the blonde merely shook his head at her, and dialed the number again. Tifa sighed, "Well, yes, but he doesn't have that ability any—"_

_Denzel cut her off, "He wasn't packing." _

_The brunette woman turned to look at the boy to find his shoulders shaking only slightly. One shuddering breath later, Denzel murmured, "He couldn't breathe." _

_Brown brows furrowed, and—_

Tifa rapped on the door once more, "Vincent, its me. You in there?"

Nothing. Tifa frowned, and held back the urge to kick in the door. After calling his name out one last time, she gently placed one ear against the door. Vincent was an ex-Turk. If traveling around with him through Meteor hadn't taught her one thing, living with him now did: Old habits die hard. He was a Turk, even if he wasn't in active duty. If Vincent didn't want to found, he wouldn't be. If he didn't want to be seen, he wouldn't be, and if he didn't want to be heard, there was no way anything less than a bat would detect him. If he was ok, that was.

"_He couldn't breathe."_

She could hear the all-together too familiar drone of the newscaster, faintly, and forced herself to close her eyes. She settled herself closer to the door, and tried to ignore the sound of blood in her ears.

"The last known case of GeoStigma was cured last week. Doctors say that it was all within good timing, because the original strand from the water that first cured the disease has become so diluted, some fear that within a few days, it will no longer have the capability to heal patients."

The brunette scowled, and tried to listen more closely; past her heartbeat, past the TV's drone—

There. Ragged breathing. She could hear it, but barely. There was a chance it was her own breathing, now slightly faster at finally catching the faint sound, but she was willing to risk it.

"Vincent, last chance to save the door."

She glanced down at the little 'do not disturb' sign, and doubted she could glean help from the staff without breaching some kind of company policy. _Door repair bill it shall be_, she thought to herself as she settled into a stance. With a deep breath, she pulled one fist back, waited for the soft burn in her forearm from pulling too deep into form, before thrusting her hand out. The blunt of her palm forward, and fingers curled high and flat, her first connected solidly with the door for one moment, and then was pressing through splintered ruins the next.

Half the door hung haphazardly from its hinges, while the rest collapsed to the floor, defeated. Tifa sighed, "I was hoping it would break the door jam, not the door…that'll be expensive," before stepping through the dusty frame.

"Vincent?"

The brunette woman took a hesitant step in, watched the flickers from the TV light up the room beyond the little hall she was in, and tried to spot anything familiar. From her spot in the hallway, all she could see was a desk, the TV, and a chair with a tattered red mess draped over it. A mess that Vincent hadn't worn since Deep Ground…

The corner of her lip ticked downward, and her brows furrowed as she took another step forward. By the desk, the pieces of a sleek black phone laid scattered. She took another step forward, and stopped as the bathroom door crept into view from around the corner. The light was on, and the door was halfway closed. From its angle, she could see further into the small bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a regular shower tucked in the far corner, its plastic drape drawn. She assumed the sink was parallel to it, therefore out of sight of the mirror.

_He must be sleeping_, she thought, and rounded the corner. She stopped at the corner of a sheet-mangled bed.

"I guess Cloud was right," she murmured softly as she observed, for almost the first time, a sleeping Vincent Valentine. Hair strewn, and body limply akimbo, she nearly couldn't believe her eyes. Somehow she figured he would be dignified, even in sleep. But the image before her made her smile, _so human._ He was dressed in a simple pair of jeans, and damp looking shirt—_he must have taken a shower before bed_. The idea of him wearing that large red cloak without his old leathers nearly made her laugh. Tifa tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and despite her anger at being left to worry, thus being dragged out of her morning, she pushed it aside and decided to address the ex-Turk when he woke. Like Denzel, the man was a light sleeper. If he hadn't woken up to his door being destroyed, then he was obviously far more exhausted than he had been letting on these past few weeks. Tifa shook her head at the man's stubbornness, and wished he had gone about resting in a manner less worrisome than he chose, but was grateful that he had decided to take care of himself, regardless.

She moved to turn off the TV, and with that little flickering light source gone, she saw that the bathroom light was diminishing what little darkness she could glean for Vincent. Tifa strode towards the bathroom, eyes on Vincent as she moved, then stopped when she felt fabric shift between her shoe and the bath tile. Fingers limp upon the light switch, she glanced down to look at what she had stepped on.

White fabric peeked out from beneath her shoe, so innocent, and trailed towards the tub. Tifa followed the trail to the drawn shower curtain, and slowly moved the plastic cover aside to find more of that thin white fabric—_bandages—_floating haphazardly throughout brownish pink, hazy bathwater. The plug had been pulled, but a large knot of white—_bandages—_had clogged the little drain. Eyes wide and unbelieving, she turned to look at the rest of the bathroom. Shoes and socks strewn randomly across the floor, she could see a small first aid kit in the far corner, bandages pulled and trailing out unused. In the toilet, the water was clear but there were black finger smudges along its base, seat, and floor. Following those smudges, her cherry browns found more offending smears along the white porcelain of the sick. After her eyes finally registered the familiar mess—

"_I'm sorry, Tifa, I'm so sorry," he repeated again, like a mantra, as he stood trembling in the light of her doorway, the collar and shoulders of his pajama's soiled as blackish red ooze crept down from his forehead, ears, and nose._

"_Oh, Denzel!" She gasped, suddenly awake where she was once caught in stupor, and hurried the far too young boy to the bathroom, grabbing new clothing—Cloud's—along the way._

—And with that acknowledgment, the _smell_ of it hit her. Rotten flesh, puss, and alien otherness punched her senses from out of nowhere. She stumbled, pulled on the sleeve of her old track jacket and brought it to her nose out of instinct, needing a familiar smell amongst the putrid thickness of the bathroom. She looked to the mirror, and tried to take in a breath when she needed to exhale. Black smudged her reflection in the mirror. She rubbed frantically at her face only to realize they were merely smudges marring the mirror as well—_Vincent's. ­_

She turned to the bed and noticed, for the first time, Vincent's clawless left hand. Perfectly human, but fingertips smeared with watery black puss. His face was tucked into the crook of his right shoulder, and elbow, but the sight of those fingers was enough for her to know.

Cloud was number one on her speed dial.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Get Through This

One thing Tifa was used to was chaos and adrenaline. After trekking around the world in search of a mad man, the woman was no stranger to medical catastrophes. Adrenaline had a way of putting things into perspective for a person, when dealing with life or death situations. Crystal clear sight, unheard of hearing, perfect sense of smell—all these things came as perks during such situations. The side effect? The person in question often won't remember half of it. Because things are moving so fast, and emotions are building so hard, the human mind kind of shuts everything off and says '_focus_'.

So afterwards, all that is left is roaring snippets of sound, flickering visions, and the rawest sections of the experience.

_"What the hell happened here?" Tifa whipped to the source of the sound: one of the hotel staff._

_"Get out of here!" Tifa snapped, eyes angry and voice whip tight with command. _

_One glance at the man on the bed sent the worker running. The brunette wondered—for a moment—if they would contact the authorities before flickering lashes caught her attention._

_It always gets worse before it gets better._

After all sorts of battles, she had seen a lot of wounds. At one point, the gang had the unfortunate chance of finding out if a mastered _cure materia_, with the aid of a few herbs and potions, was actually able to reattach a dismembered limb. In case anyone was wondering, it was possible, though they were completely out of supplies afterwards. Considering that at the time, they had had a lot of supplies, it was an experience Tifa never wanted to repeat.

So needless to say, the bar tender had seen a lot of injuries while in the line of duty. Their so-called job description did in fact warn them of such instances. Revolution, and freedom have always come to the price of blood.

But this wasn't the various plains to set camp at, during Meteor.

_"Tifa?" Cloud asked, suddenly beside her, helping her hold down thrashing limbs, "How long?"_

_The brunette struggled to speak as she focused on holding Vincent down without any sort of good grip—towels had a way of taking the traction out of one's hands—and attempted a breathless explanation, "He woke up a little while after I called you. Tried to say something before," Tifa sucked in a breath, the instance still vivid in her mind, "before that shit started to come out of his mouth."_

_The body beneath their steadying hands gave another lethal buck. Heels deep into the bed at one end, and supported merely by his shoulders at the other, Vincent's back arched high off the bed. _

_"Shock?" Cloud asked._

_"I think."_

_They could hear sirens wailing, and blue eyes darted to brown ones, "We don't have much time…"_

This wasn't waiting at the bar for Vincent to finally show up after his supposed death with Omega.

_The radio was gravelly; the sound rich with static, but it was good enough for what they needed it for. The little device was situated on the small space between the driver and passenger seats, and steadily fed them information coming in over the local emergency frequencies._

_"Hotel on the western edge of Sector 8, bordering towards the city limits, reported an emergency several moments ago. Authorities have made contact, but are requesting—" the static flared," –any patrols able to assist?"_

_A nervous voice, obviously hoping that speaking loud would cover his waver, spoke up, "I can be there in ten."_

_"Paramedics will meet you there. Hotel management says two people—one male, one female—carried a body from the hotel. Judging by the state of the room, they think it's the Stigma. Immediate quarantine is requested, teams dispatch as quickly as possible."_

_Tifa frowned from the backseat, and caught concerned blue eyes glancing back to them from the rear view mirror. A rumbling hack brought her attention back down to the bundle in her lap. Red eyes flickered dully at her from above the medical mask—splattered black from the inside—placed over his lower face. The bar tender brushed stray locks from his brow as gently as she could with her rubber clad fingers. Elbows deep in gloves, and wearing a mask of her own, she didn't feel very comforting._

This wasn't the ashen aftermath of Sephiroth's fiery bloodbath in Nibelheim, nor was it the agonizing moment when she saw Cloud get engulfed by an explosion he should have, by no means, survived.

This wasn't walking into the church to find Cloud floating within its blessedly flooded middle.

_"Tifa, Cloud!" Marlene greeted cheerfully from the bar as she ate her Cheerios. She moved to stand, but stopped from pushing off her bar stool when she noticed that the two were hurriedly carrying something—no, someone—into the bar._

_Her big brown eyes widened, as though struck, as she watched Tifa and Cloud carry a familiar, dark haired man into the bar. With the brunette carrying him by the legs, and the blonde carrying him from the under the shoulders, the two hustled the limp body to a nearby collection of tables, and set him upon it._

_The little girl took in short, little breaths, and looked from their gloves, to their clean medical masks, to her Uncle Vincent's splattered one. _

_"Tifa?" She asked, the concern in her voice causing the pitch to rise._

_Tifa spun on her, "Go grab a mask, get one for Denzel too. Put them on, and then call Reeve. Do you understand?"_

_Marlene tipped her chin up, after a moment's hesitation, and tried to clench her jaw tight enough to stop the tremble in her lower lip. Untrusting of her voice, she merely gave them a jerky nod, and ran up the stairs._

This was finding those dirty bandages at the Church, with Marlene.

_"Tifa, close the blinds and lock the bar," Cloud barked as he headed to the stairs, "I'll grab the kit."_

_Before he had even said anything, she was already halfway done closing the first set of blinds, and already moving on to the next. Once the bar was subsequently left in reddish, early morning darkness, she flipped on the lights and made sure the sign on their door said 'closed'._

This was picking up the phone to hear—for the first time—Denzel crying.

"I don't know what to do," and she listened to a voice, far too young, break, "I just don't know."

_Grimy fingers clutched at the hem of her clothing as she passed the table, and she cast wide eyes to the man upon it. Jerking slightly, Vincent stared at her with eyes very much cognitive, very much aware, and very much pleading. His breathing came in painfully short, gagging breaths that required the older man to expel his breath just as quickly as it came in; too much mucus in his airways. _

_She took the trembling fingertips, and laced his hand with her rubber clad one, "You're going to be okay," she said strongly, for the both of them. She tried to ignore the way the black ooze from his fingertips smeared onto her gloves._

_Tried to ignore the way the black marred the yellow._

This was holding a boy in her arms that didn't hold her back, and stared at her with eerily familiar green eyes.

_"Dear God," came a voice as the door chimed its welcome._

_Tifa whirled on him as Cloud was setting up the emergency oxygen kit they kept, "Reeve!"_

_Reeve looked to her, his expression still shocked, but his eyes focused, "I ran a few lights, but I'm here. Not too late, I hope?" _

_Tifa shook her head and waved her hand at the small kit on a nearby table, stocked with gloves and masks, "We were hoping we would never need them again."_

_The WRO Leader grimaced at the sight of the kit, but approached it regardless. Mask on and halfway through donning a pair of rubber gloves that suspiciously looked like yellow cleaning gloves; he chanced a glance at Vincent. Reeve asked, "This doesn't have anything to do with that Hotel, does it?"_

_Tifa pursed her lips, but did not deny it. At the table, Cloud was removing the gunk-spattered mask from Vincent's mouth, and preparing to replace it with the oxygen mask. With the hindering mask gone, Vincent gasped and tried to speak through the chaos of the moment. _

_All that left the dark haired man's lips were a series of gurgles, and chokes that didn't sound anything like English. Cloud frowned, began to clean Vincent's mouth as best he could, before placing the mask over his friend's face. _

_"Hold on," the blonde said softly._

This was walking into an alley filled with black sludge that had nothing to do with pollution, or littering, only to find a young girl carrying the dead form of her even younger brother on her back, eyes shining bitterly.

_"He needs medical assistance," Reeve argued as they watched over Vincent's somewhat more stable state._

_"This has worked in the past," Cloud retorted, and Tifa rounded on him._

_"Yea, for Denzel. But after the initial attack that brought him here, we never had to deal with anything very serious again. Some struggled breathing, and a few late night clean ups but," she waved her hand at the now unconscious man laying upon one of their tables, "never anything like this. Never anything this serious."_

_Reeve placed his hand upon Cloud's shoulder, "I understand the need for secrecy on this matter, but without the proper medical attention, I don't think a simple vat of oxygen is going to pull him through this."_

_"We take him to the Church."_

_"And what?" Tifa breathed in exasperation, "The water is gone, Cloud. Reeve is right, Vincent needs a hospital."_

_Reeve smiled grimly, "I never said that, Tifa."_

This wasn't something, despite her immense experience with the situation, that Tifa Lockhart knew how to fight.

_"I know someone who can help," Reeve said._

* * *

Tifa was sitting on one of the chairs that survived their cleaning spree, legs crossed, arms folded, and growled, "I can't believe we let them in here."

Cloud frowned, and addressed her from the bar, "This isn't about Rufus, is it?"

Tifa stood, and let out a whispered bark of anger, "Of course this is about ShinRa! I don't trust him farther than I can throw him."

Cloud chuckled, "You could probably throw that man a decent distance, Teef."

Tifa glared at him, and Cloud held out his hands in surrender. A bad joke, but a needed point.

Cloud resumed with his cleaning of the dark wood of the bar top, "He's helping us out, again, Tifa. Don't bite off his head."

"I know!" Tifa snapped, and at Cloud's reproaching gaze she took a slow breath, and sighed, "I know."

Cloud nodded, "It's frustrating. We're all a bit frayed. Maybe you should rest a bit, Tifa."

The brunette walked over to the bar and sat at a stool beside where the blonde was cleaning, and said, "We're all tired," and placed her hand over his to still his movement. He paused, and then released the cloth in surrender. When she was stressed, she needed to release it with biting words, and fists. Oddly enough, it was he who cleaned when worried. Throughout the initial spread of GeoStigma, he could often be found cleaning _Fenrir, _his bike_. _

His sword already sat shined in the corner. Two hours ago he had an excuse to clean. They needed to sanitize the area, which included disposing of most of the furniture that came in contact with the situation at hand, scrubbing the door, the floors, and anything that they may have brushed over the past day. It was a lot of cleaning, but it kept them moving, and their minds off of what was happening down stairs, in the old cellar they once used when they called themselves 'Avalanche'.

The cellar had been converted into an emergency room. Packed with an array of supplies, a bed, and a few pull out cots stored under that bed, there was more than enough reason to put Vincent down there once he was stable enough to move. The kids were upstairs, hopefully watching the movie Tifa popped in for them. Granted, watching a movie probably wasn't very fun when the mask on your face stood as a constant reminder of what was happening.

Tifa brushed her fingers over her own mask, and sighed. They had gotten the things once Aerith's rain had healed a majority of Midgar, back when GeoStigma was still a thriving force to be reckoned with. Despite the healing rains, other parts of the world were still infected severely, not to mention that not everyone had been outside when it rained, nor did everyone follow the orders Aerith gave during her citywide phone call. Not to mention that the rain, obviously, did not span the entirety of the whole world. Scientists immediately began to work on transforming the rain into a cure. The cure was sent to countries all over, but the disease was still present…still dangerous.

Originally, the disease only had two ways to spread: by touching the excess bodily fluids of someone infected, or by first hand contact with the infected Life Stream during Meteor. Shortly after the first waves of GeoStigma struck, it was released that anyone who did not have GeoStigma could not catch the disease without coming in contact with a victim. Immunity, they called it. Midgar had received the blunt of the blow from the Life Stream. But it only takes one infected person to move to a new place—to infect a new person—for a disease to start moving.

Months after Aerith's rain, it was feared that the disease would evolve to prevent its extinction. Some physicians feared the disease would go airborne, better and stronger than before. Though there was no medical experimentation upon the idea—seeing as the disease had nearly been wiped out—Cloud and Tifa took no chances. After the last cases of GeoStigma were dealt with, the two considered throwing the kit away, but after everything they went through, they knew it was better to be paranoid than caught without supplies should a sudden flare up roar through the city of Midgar.

And then this happened.

There was no reason to believe it was airborne. But while GeoStigma reacted differently for everyone, its initial appearance was slow. Until Reeve told them they could put the masks away, they wouldn't be taking any chances.

Which led Tifa back to thinking about the men in her basement.

Rufus ShinRa, Reno, and Tseng.

Tifa scowled, and looked to Cloud.

"Don't worry," he said, "we'll have everything sorted out soon enough."

The bar tender rested her chin upon her now gloveless hand, and sighed, "I just wish Cid would get here already. I don't want the kids to see this again."

Cloud's smile ticked downward, and he made his way behind her. The blonde rested his forehead against the curve of the back of her neck, and shoulder.

"We'll get through this."


End file.
